


Carmine

by Anxietymoss284566428348



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Character Growth, Healing, Other, This is so very self indulgent, kinda a coffee shop au, there is a coffee shop involved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:55:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28438722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anxietymoss284566428348/pseuds/Anxietymoss284566428348
Summary: Natasha Romanova has been plagued by nightmares of her past. One night, she seeks shelter in a quaint 24-hour coffee shop. This soon becomes a habit.
Relationships: Natasha Romanov (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s), Natasha Romanov/Original Character
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Carmine is a shade of red, btw

_A sharp slap hit her cheek, causing blood to flow from her mouth where she accidentally bit her cheek._

_“Romanova, are you paying attention? Do it again”_

_Pushing aside the pain as her bruised and battered body screamed at her, she raised the gun once more, ignoring the slight trembling of her hands. Looking down the barrel into large fearful eyes, she pulled the trigger._

_Bang_

And Natasha Romanova awoke very suddenly, her dream still replaying in front of her eyes. The Red Room had been a star of her dreams increasingly often recently, and it was costing her her much needed sleep. Normally, she would make her way down to the training room on nights like these when her past experiences decided to raise their ugly heads, but last time she did she had run into Steve Rogers and she wasn’t prepared to repeat that experience.

It wasn’t that she detested the man, they were teammates after all so they had to work together, but his personality and attitude just rubbed her the wrong way. She didn’t enjoy having to follow a leader, she has done enough of that in her life, and at least some of those leaders had earned her respect. Steve hadn’t really. He had assumed his position without a care and with hardly any experience, and just expected them all to follow his lead. His blind patriotism wasn’t something she could really get behind, and he often was too enamored by the orders of SHIELD or whatever organization they were working for to even think about asking the relevant questions.

If Stark hadn’t hacked his way into SHIELD’s database, they would have been going into this with none of the information they needed. Her relationship with Stark was really one of the more surprising ones of all her teammates. She had thought that her little stint in spying on him would have ingrained her as one of his enemies, but they had somehow bonded over being assholes who didn’t trust anyone and she honestly enjoyed hearing his snide remarks during debriefings, not that she ever showed it.

Without her noticing, while she had been ruminating on all of these thoughts, her feet had been leading her to a different place. She remembered a café that Peter had dragged her to one day insisting that they needed some spider bonding time, it had advertised being open 24 hours, and some coffee right now was exactly what she needed.

Peter Parker was another surprise acquaintance. She had never really gotten along with kids. She didn’t know how to deal with them and couldn’t relate to them in any aspect as she hadn’t exactly had a childhood. But Peter, he hadn’t let her aloofness and cold exterior or even biting remarks faze him and had persisted in worming his way into her reluctant affections. She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk as she realized that she actually enjoyed the tiny spider’s company, his constant chatter was a welcome distraction from the thoughts constantly battling each other in her head, and he never expected anything that she couldn’t give.

Brushing the thoughts away, she looked around to get her bearings, and continued heading towards where she remembered the small coffee shop was. Her excellent memory hadn’t failed her, within another five minutes, she came across a familiar, unimpressive storefront with flickering neon letters spelling out Ambrosia Café. For how good she knew the food and drink was inside, she would have never entered it if the tiny spider hadn’t dragged her there.

Pushing open the dingy door, she stepped into a small room with just a couple tables and chairs scattered about, two overstuffed armchairs were pushed against the far wall, and the biggest table was entirely covered with papers in notebooks with complex equations scribbled on them interspersed with doodles of gears and diagrams. One pile of the paperwork seemed to be the designated drink coaster, if the amount of coffee rings and spills on it indicated anything, but before she could snoop around more, her attention was drawn by a bang coming from the kitchen area.

Concerned, she hesitantly stepped towards the counter. Seeing a bell sitting by the register, she reached over and rang it. The ringing cued another round of noise, but this time the noise was some very creative swearing coming from the kitchen gradually getting louder as the person neared the counter. Taking a deep breath, they wiped their hair from their eyes and plastered a very fake smile on their face.

“Hi,” they said very tiredly, “this is Ambrosia’s café. What can I get you?”

Bemused, Natasha stared for a second at their face, and said dryly, forcing the words out of her throat, “A black coffee.”

The barista looked her over once, nodded and turned around to the coffee maker and supplies.

“You can sit wherever,” they threw behind their shoulder, “I’ll bring it over to you when it's done.”

Natasha awkwardly looked around the cramped space and decided on an armchair that was in the corner and had an unblocked view of the surroundings. Grabbing one of the knit blankets that littered the room, she made her way over to it and settled down. Not soon after she had wrapped the blanket securely around her and tucked her feet up under it to preserve warmth, the barista set down a mug and a plate with a chocolate chip muffin on the table next to her.

“I didn’t order a muffin.” Natasha said a little sharper than she intended, trying to mask the raspiness and shakiness of her voice.

To their credit, the barista didn’t even bat an eye as they made their way back to the table they must have been inhabiting before whatever disaster happened in the kitchen.

“I know,” they said calmly, “but you need it.”

Perturbed, Natasha leaned back in her chair with the mug of coffee and, after a few minutes of idly glancing around the shop, focused her attention on the barista.

Despite them wearing a skirt, Natasha was very hesitant to call them a “her” as her gut told her that was a bad idea. Her instincts had gotten her through many tough times, and her ability to read body language perfectly ensured that she was rarely deceived. This person in front of her was a little baffling. They were dressed in traditionally feminine clothing, a mustard knit cardigan over a black t-shirt and brown skirt created an outfit that seemed to have been chosen for comfort over looks. Despite the feminine clothing, everything about the way they held themself and even sat suggested masculinity. They had one leg hiked up on the chair as they leaned over the table scribbling something or other down on a piece of paper, even the way they held their face put a more masculine presence to the forefront of Natasha’s mind. The barista’s gender wasn’t the only thing seeming to contradict itself, despite the math and possibly physics equations all over their work surface, their arms and shirt were splattered with paint in a whole rainbow of colors.

Still musing, Natasha took a sip of her coffee only to pause surprised. This was actually really good coffee. It didn’t taste like regular black coffee, but it was still very good. Better even than it had been the last time she had come here with Peter. She went back to watching the barista working at the table. Their curly light brown hair kept falling in their face and each time it was either completely ignored or blown out of their face. The doodles that she had seen scattered on the papers continued their way up their arms and were occasionally coloured in. The barista glanced up at her and huffed amused, leaning their face against their hand.

“The staring is kind of creepy, you know,” they pointed out.

Never one to apologize, Natasha merely met their gaze and said nothing. The barista sighed again and pushed themself off their chair and crossed the room to sit in the armchair by Natasha. She tensed slightly, but the barista merely looked at her before holding out their hand.

“Key, they/them,” they said with a smile.

Natasha didn’t take their hand but just nodded. Key stared at her for a minute before saying softly.

“You should eat your muffin. It'll help.”

Slowly, Natasha reached towards the muffin and nibbled a small bite off of it, and as she did so, the last remaining tension leached out of her as she relaxed fully into the chair. Key’s eyes lit up as a soft smile graced their lips, and they quietly headed back to their table. This time, when they felt Natasha’s eyes land on them again, they just shook their head amusedly and turned back to their work.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Light angst warning! Natasha has a flashback but nothing is explicitly described

As Natasha's nightmares got worse, she found herself retreating to the quiet oasis of Ambrosia’s more and more. Each time she ordered the same black coffee, though she didn’t always get one. She got used to the random pastries that Key gave her, and she tried to ignore how they warmed her up from the inside, but the first time Key decided that no, she didn’t really want a black coffee but instead hot chocolate, Natasha had stubbornly wrapped her blanket around herself and headed over to Key’s table.

“I didn’t order this,” she firmly said.

“No,” Key agreed, “but you need it.”

Not having a comeback prepared for this, Natasha just scowled and sat down across from them. It was if that interaction had opened a barrier between them, and they found themselves engaging in a conversation more often than not. Every time Natasha walked in, she went to sit in her armchair, Key would walk over with a beverage, a snack, and their pronouns (most often they/them, though occasionally she/her), then head over to their table. Natasha would either stay in the armchair, which Key understood as a sign that she wasn’t in the mood to talk, or she would make her way over to their table and Key would start talking about their day or their homework and Natasha would occasionally add a snarky comment that always had Key wryly grinning.

It wasn’t until the third week of Natasha heading to the café every night that she realized that she was actually looking forward to spending time with Key. Like with Peter, there was no pressure to say anything she didn’t want to, she hadn’t even told Key her name until a couple of days ago, and it was a welcome distraction. Her teammates had also been noticing a change in her mood, she was less snappy without reason, and though she still made somewhat cruel remarks, they were no longer with the intent to kill.

It was through these late night/early morning conversations that Natasha learned that Key was working towards a masters in mechanical engineering, they had an older brother, and they had always wanted a dog. As they opened up to Natasha, their normally calm and dry voice would brighten and sturdy, calloused hands would move animatedly through the air as they talked as if they could mold the air into images that described what they were talking about. Multiple times their energetic gestures would threaten a mug or stack of papers, and each time Natasha would simply reach out a hand to rebalance it.

On one such night, Natasha entered Ambrosia’s from the pouring rain, her hair slicked down, and the little protection her thin jacket offered obviously didn’t do much good, as she was shivering slightly. Her dreams had been especially bad that night, and though she had initially tried to work it out in the gym, she had destroyed two punching bags before she realized that it wouldn’t help. No matter how much she lashed out, she kept seeing the splatter of blood, kept hearing the long forgotten and suppressed voices. The aching of her hands hitting the bag started to match the phantom aches in her shoulder and ribs. She couldn’t run from this memory, she just couldn’t. Left with no other option and trapped in the numbing force of her mind, she headed to the familiar grounding warmth of Ambrosia’s café.

She didn’t notice the chilling rain that sank into her bones, or much else. Her entire being was focused on two things, her heartbeat which was steadily growing louder and drowning out everything else, and the occasional gunshot that cut through it.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Key looked up when the door opened and almost didn’t recognize the shivering figure that stumbled through the doorway looking like a drowned rat. _Oh god, Tasha. What have you done now._

She had expected Natasha in, but not looking like this. The normal fiery active red color that surrounded her friend was dull and curled protectively around her heart, occasionally it would strike out against that sickly neon orange that surrounded it for some reason. Key had never seen something like this before, and she wasn’t sure what caused it, but looking at the trembling form of the woman she cared so much about, she was sure she knew the effect. She had never told Natasha that she could see colors around people, it was a little too personal to share with someone that she only saw a few times a week and had mostly one-sided conversations with, but she had quickly been entranced by the highly saturated shimmering red that had surrounded the woman. Even the first time that Natasha had come in, her colors had been much the same as they were now, though not quite as bad and lacking the orange, but Key had been able to sense the vibrancy. Maybe that’s why Key had allowed herself to come out of her shell so easily, she wanted so badly to see that beautiful red color flourish. So she gave Natasha free food, and drinks that she needed, not what she ordered, she willingly talked about her day and reveled in the occasional sly remarks she drew from the other woman.

Hurrying around the counter, she grabbed the café's thickest, warmest blanket and headed over to Natasha. Hovering around them, she tried to bring her friend out of the panic induced daze that they were in.

“Tasha? Natasha!?”

Slowly blue eyes turned up to look in the direction of her voice. Relieved to see even this small sign of comprehension, Key continued in her calm, even voice.

“Natasha, you’re soaking wet. Can I take your jacket?”

She waited patiently as the redhead seemed to think it over. Finally, a small nod.

Moving carefully so not to shock Natasha further, she carefully peeled the drenched jacket off of her and put it to the side. Grabbing the blanket from where it had fallen to the floor, she wrapped it snugly around Natasha and started to lead her to an armchair by the radiator. Once she was safely ensconced by the overstuffed monstrosity, Key headed to the kitchen. Moving quickly, as she didn’t want to leave Tasha alone for too long, she grabbed a plate and put a couple chocolate cookies on it. Pausing momentarily to deliberate, she started the kettle for some of her special blend hot chocolate which was miles better than the gritty substitute the café normally served. There wasn’t much different about it, just twice the amount of cocoa powder and more vanilla, but it was rich and creamy and always warmed her up.

Key reentered the main area of the café, unsurprised to see that Natasha hadn’t moved. She still appeared to be completely zoned out and was just staring at a spot on the wall across from her. Her dark rich carmine was still swirling anxiously and seemed to be moving in a hundred different directions at once. As Key approached, she was careful to make sure that she entered Natasha’s line of vision so as not to startle her, but even so Natasha gave a small jump as she approached. Crouching down next to the armchair, she put the plate of cookies on the small table next to it and pressed the mug of hot chocolate into Natasha’s slightly shaking hands. Hesitantly, Key wrapped her hands around Natasha’s and was ready to move away until she saw Natasha’s colors relax minutely. While the red was still protective and sharp, it seemed to embrace Key’s hands and glow just a little warmer. Ignoring the stiffness in her legs as she continued to crouch, she settled down and prepared to wait until her friend felt better.

Hesitantly, she closed her eyes and let the dark green and mossy brown that lived inside of her come to the surface, as she started humming, the colors reached out and soothed Natasha’s dim red glow, chasing away the orange from where it had its claws dug into the beautiful red.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Slowly, so _so_ slowly, the overwhelming sounds and feelings of her memories started to leave her. It started when something warm was placed in her hands, while startling at first, the rich warmth flowing off the object and into her hands grounded her and gave her something to focus on besides the pain. A lyrical humming wormed its way through the gunshots and harsh words echoing in her mind and blanketed her consciousness in a patchwork quilt of grounding warmth colored in warm browns and dark greens. Gradually, she started to focus more and more on the song, and allowed it to lead her out of her thoughts. She became aware once more of her surroundings, and a stern voice in her mind berated her for ever allowing herself to become so unobservant, but she quickly shoved it aside as she began to recognize the safe calmness that always radiated off her friend, Key. Natasha was sitting in her usual armchair (though she had no memory of getting there) wrapped in a blanket (that she had never seen before) holding a mug of hot chocolate. Natasha internally startled as she realized that Key’s hands were wrapped around her own, but the only outward sign of this was a slight tensing of her hands. Nevertheless, Key noticed and raised their head from where it had been leaning against the side of the armchair. They stopped the humming that Natasha hadn’t realized was coming from them.

“Hey Tashi, how are you feeling?” They asked in a smooth, slightly higher pitched voice that Natasha had come to associate with she/her pronouns in her mind. Natasha had given up on stopping Key from using a nickname for her early on, and it seemed that knowing her name had just given Key more ideas and nicknames. Key’s patiently waiting eyes made Natasha realize that she had left the question hover for too long.

After an attempt to talk resulted only in a dry rasping sound leaving her throat, she tilted her head to the side in a so-so gesture.

Key gave out a low hum of understanding and pressed the mug of hot chocolate into Natasha’s hands. Understanding the unspoken request for her to drink it, Natasha shakily brought the mug to her lips, slightly mourning the loss of Key’s hands on her own, but that thought was immediately banished as soon as the hot chocolate touched her lips. The sweet warm drink drove away the remaining chills and tremors, and Natasha relaxed completely into the chair. Nodding in approval, Key stood up a little stiffly, she must have been kneeling for a long time, and made her way over to the neighboring armchair where she sat down and tucked her socked feet up underneath herself.

The two sat in peaceful silence as Natasha drank the hot chocolate and began to feel more like herself.

“Thank you,” she said quietly

Key looked up surprised, whether it was at the gratitude or the fact that Natasha had spoken, she couldn’t be sure.

“Of course,” she said steadily in her calming voice, “you’re my friend.”

Now it was Natasha’s turn to look surprised. She hadn’t had friends before. The closest she had was Clint, but they were more partners than friends. She trusted him with her life, but not with her secrets and traumas. Sipping on the hot chocolate again, she allowed herself to bask in the idea that someone thought of her as their friend. Of course, Key knew barely anything about her, but she had just sat by her side during one of the worst flashbacks Natasha had experienced in a while, and even now didn’t ask for an explanation or story, she continued to do what she had always done. Offer Natasha her compassion and quiet understanding and expect nothing in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Key is genderfluid, so they use she/her and they/them depending on how they identify at that time. Because Natasha is so good at reading body language, she is able to pick up on how to refer to Key as they get to know each other more. I wasnt planning to explicitly state Key's pronouns each time, but let me know if that would be helpful :)
> 
> Comments and Kudos are appreciated!!!
> 
> 3/10/21, I just edited a little bit of this chapter and added a couple details to move the plot along :) Chapter 3 will hopefully be up soon
> 
> -Moss


End file.
